You feel two sudden jerks as his stomach convulses. You hear him hack once before you're shot quickly up his throat and are forced out into a mess of stomach juices, a lot of flour and his dinner.

"Hachk!" The fox splutters in the dimly lit room. "Something tickled my neck, what was that?!" He says before proceeding to poke his sick on the floor with a pudgy finger, "Well it seems like something I'd eat." He says, before switching a lamp on and scooping his sick up with a dustpan.